


Hey Violet

by demonglass



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I hope, M/M, That's it, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and she's gay, don't think about the fact that none of the third years are at karasuno anymore in this, just fluff, not an april fools fic, not explicitly stated but if you squint it's there, second year tsukkiyama, wow this is just, yachi is here too for a hot second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonglass/pseuds/demonglass
Summary: Yamaguchi gets a lunchtime surprise that leads to an interesting few weeks.(The late White Day fic no one asked for)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not even that good I don't think?? I just wanted to write another one shot while I take a break from planning out the rest of my vampire/werewolf kagehina au and this came to me so I pissed it out in like two hours. Also idk if the title makes all that much sense but I really wanted to use it so I'm rolling with it.

Nothing extraordinary ever happens on Tuesdays. Or, rather, nothing extraordinary has ever happened on a Tuesday _before_. Not until today.

White Day. Despite all the fuss the female population of Karasuno High is making about it, Yamaguchi doesn’t think the holiday really matters. He says as much to Yachi when she sits down across from him so they can study together, and – much to his surprise – she agrees. Apparently, she’s not too worked up about it either.

He doesn’t bother asking what Tsukki’s take on it is; he already knows all he’ll get is an unconcerned shrug before his friend retreats to the music in his headphones and buries himself in his lunch. Thinking that maybe he should follow his lead on at least one of those things, Yamaguchi turns away from the papers on his desk in favor of digging through his bag for food. He expects to find his bento sitting under his English work. Instead, he finds a clear baggie filled with something purple and a note attached.

Bento momentarily forgotten, he pulls the bag out and lays it carefully on his desk. The purple things – he realizes after a moment – are cookies, about half a dozen of them. He frowns, confused and thumbs the note curiously.

“What’s that?” Yachi asks.

Yamaguchi starts and Tsukki glances over from where he’s seated a few desks away. When he doesn’t see anything inherently wrong, he glues his eyes back to the book in his hand.

“I dunno,” Yamaguchi admits once he regains his wits. “I just found it in my bag.”

“Must be a gift,” she says thoughtfully, peering down at the violet sweets. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer!”

He shrugs, stifles a smile and, before he can wuss out, pulls the note off the tape it’s stuck to and flips it open. The paper is black and covered with little golden stars and a sliver of silver moon and the text stands out bright white against it all. It’s clearly been typed out and printed from a computer, but at the time it doesn’t occur to Yamaguchi that it’s to avoid the chance of handwriting being recognized. He swallows his nerves – where did they come from anyway? – and starts to read.

_Yamaguchi Tadashi,_

_I wish I had the courage to tell you this in person, but I suppose I’m just not brave enough when it comes to this sort of thing. Honestly, I almost didn’t even do this much. I don’t think that would be fair though. Or maybe writing this confession without signing it is the thing that’s not fair? I don’t know. Either way, I’m telling you now. I like you. Have for a while. I like the way you smile and laugh and the way you just **exist**. I like that you help your friends and even more how you help people you barely know. I like that you’ve got one little hair that won’t stay down on your head. I guess I like most things about you. What I’m trying to say is that I just like **you**. I hope you enjoy the cookies and know that there’s someone out here thinking about you. That there’s someone who cares about you, even if they’re too cowardly to tell you in person yet. Even if **I’m** too cowardly to tell you. Happy White Day._

_P.S. The paper is a starry night because I think your freckles are great and they remind me of the sky._

Yamaguchi realizes, after he’s been stone still for too long and Yachi starts to worry over him, that he’s forgotten to breathe. He shakes her off, assures her that he’s fine, and then reads over the note again to make sure he didn’t hallucinate the whole thing. He can’t quite seem to wrap his head around it. Someone likes him? Someone _likes_ him? Someone likes _him_?

It seems far too surreal, and he isn’t sure what he should do.

He still isn’t sure what he should do when the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. Or when it rings to signal the end of the school day. Or when, in the blink of an eye, practice is suddenly over too and he has to make his way home. The rest of the night goes by in a blur; he does his homework and eats his dinner, but his mind is somewhere else. Lost in the void of his brain trying to figure out how, how, _how._

Sleep comes eventually, and when he wakes up in the morning with a fresh perspective, he’s got a whole new question in his head.

 _Who?_ Who could possibly have written that note, made a small batch of _violet_ sugar cookies (of all things) and then stuck the two together and given them to him in secret.

 

He spends two days trying to figure it out before it exhausts him so much that he decides to give up. Hopefully, _hopefully –_ if the note is to be believed – the author will make himself known sooner or later. He’ll just have to wait.

As it turns out, the waiting period only lasts another few days.

 

He’s at Tsukki’s house to study – which rolls easily into staying for dinner – when he has his breakthrough. The kitchen is an absolute disaster, but he isn’t concerned enough with the details to ask why. He’s focused instead on the little bottle of purple food coloring in the back corner of the counter to his right. Suddenly his trip to get water seems like the most important thing he’s done since nailing his serves at Nationals.

“What’d you have purple food dye for?” he asks Tsukki’s mother once he finally finds his voice, refusing to let himself sound too hopeful.

“Oh, that? I got it last month when some friends from work wanted to get together to make Valentines. I actually forgot we had it until Kei dug it out last week for something he was baking. Cookies I think.”

Yamaguchi’s stomach drops to the floor and his heart leaps into his throat. He makes a noise that sounds like the disgusting love child of a squeak and a choking kind of cough and practically runs out of the room.

It’s a miracle he makes it through the rest of the night without passing out.

 

He spends the following weekend in such an astonished trance that Monday arrives almost before he’s even realized Saturday and Sunday already came and went. Tuesday through Thursday go by, and slowly the fog in his head clears.

By Friday it becomes obvious to him that unless the universe is playing some cruel trick of coincidences on him, his best friend is the one behind the mysterious White Day gift. And, because he is the biggest fool in the world, he’s going to confront him about it.

 

It isn’t until the end of practice that he decides the best thing to do is just bite the bullet and get it over with as soon as possible. So, if for some reason, he really _has_ been played by the universe, at least he’ll have two days to live it down before he has to face anyone again. It is with that single thought in mind that he comes to a sudden stop behind his friend in the middle of the empty, lamplit road they always walk down together.

“Tsukki!” he shouts loud enough to break through the other boy’s music.

Tsukki stops dead where he stands, turns, and eases his headphones off. “Something wrong?”

Yamaguchi takes a deep breath. “Did you put that stuff in my bag last week. On White Day?”

 _Silence_. There’s no turning back now.

“I didn’t mean to, but I, uh, kind of saw the food dye at your house last weekend and asked your mom about it. She said you made purple – violet really, but I guess that doesn’t matter – cookies with it. And that’s what I got in my bag. Was that . . . was it from you?”

His words are greeted by silence again. He stares at Tsukki pleadingly, and he holds his gaze, but doesn’t give him anything in return. He’s completely quiet and infuriatingly unreadable.  

After what feels like an eternity, Yamaguchi gives up. His shoulders sag lower than he thought physically possible and his heart sinks even deeper in his chest. He should have known it was too good to be true. Turning away, defeated, he tries to figure out how exactly he’s supposed to get his legs to carry him home when they feel filled with lead. He’s barely moved an inch when he hears it.

“Are you mad?” Tsukki’s voice is so quiet and so close to something _unsteady_ that it almost doesn’t sound like him.

Yamaguchi whirls around, lead suddenly turning to stardust in his veins. “Why would I be mad?” He doesn’t realize how hopeful he is until he hears his voice.

“Because it’s _me_ ,” Tsukki mutters, staring at the ground. “Because it’s _us_. Because I _like_ you.”

“Why would I be mad?” Yamaguchi asks again because he genuinely can’t believe Tsukki thinks this is a problem.

Tsukki looks up from the pavement to glare at him, but it doesn’t faze him in the least. “Because . . . because we’ve been friends for ages and now I’ve ruined it!”

Yamaguchi brushes off the shout and moves toward his friend with limbs lighter than air. “I think we must have very different ideas about what ‘ruined’ means.”

Tsukki’s eyes widen and the smile on Yamaguchi’s face widens too. “You mean?”

“Yeah,” he nods, barely feeling the growing pain in his cheeks because the ache in his chest is _finally_ gone. “I mean I like you too.”

“Really?” Tsukki breaths out as he takes a hesitant step forward.

“Yes, really. Honestly, how thick are you?”

Tsukki lets out a choked, watery laugh and then they’re meeting each other in the middle of the street.

They’ve never hugged before, and Yamaguchi is fairly certain that they’re doing something wrong somehow because it feels a little awkward and not nearly as soft as when he hugs his mother, but he doesn’t really care. How could he possibly care about anything more than the fact that strong arms are wrapped tightly around him and his face is pressed against a warm chest and his heart is so relieved he could cry.

“Do you really think my freckles look like stars?” he asks in a muffled voice after a moment of reveling in everything that’s just happened, his hands gripping the back of Tsukki’s sweatshirt.

“Shut up,” he mutters back into his hair. Then, head dipping into the crook of his neck: “Yeah I do.”

Yamaguchi smiles his biggest, brightest smile because he’s really wanted this so badly for so long and now it’s here and he thinks he might actually burst from how stupid happy he is. His best friend is holding him tight and he likes his smile and his laugh and his silly, untamable hair. And it’s Tsukki. _Tsukki_ thinks his freckles look like stars and _Tsukki_ likes _him_. And _wow_ does he like Tsukki too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow just unapologetic fluff is what that was. Maybe a lil ooc but what can ya do. Was this even any good? Idk. Let me know I guess. Kudos and comments are cool but I'm pretty sure this was actually trash so my hopes aren't too high. Anyway, thanks for stopping by & reading this far. I hope I see you around here again.


End file.
